


What You Don't Know

by agent_starbuck



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, First Kiss, Post-Episode: s06e12 One Son, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19153990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_starbuck/pseuds/agent_starbuck
Summary: 189. “You made us enemies. I never wanted this.”A drabble set post One Son. Mulder and Scully have the X-Files back, but their relationship is on rocky ground. Scully is still struggling with Diana and the “making it personal” comment. They finally address the hallway scene in FTF. Lots of angst ahead, but I promise it’s worth it in the end.





	1. Chapter 1

They’re back in the basement office only three short days after Jeffrey Spender’s suspicious death and their subsequent reassignment to the X-Files.

 

The breath she draws into her lungs as she crosses the threshold is shaky, and she swallows away that persistent, nervous lump in her throat that’s been there since she woke this morning.

 

The overwhelming chemical odor of new carpet floods her nostrils, nearly knocking her back. Her eyes instinctively search for signs of a bloodstain on the floor she knows she won’t find.

 

“Morning, Scully,” Mulder calls out from the corner of the office as he haphazardly arranges his books on the shelf, stirring up a cloud of dust that glitters in the strand of blonde sunlight filtering in through the windows. Her eyes scan the room, cataloging any changes that might have taken place since the last occupants left.

 

Everything is almost exactly the way they’d left it. Eerily so. Gone are the immaculately organized bookshelves and neatly framed government photographs of state officials. Replaced, instead, with a chaotic presentation of paper clippings and blurry paranormal pictures that claim their rightful place on the corkboard behind the desk. A macabre reminder of their life’s work. Of monsters and skeletons and little green men.

 

It feels as though she’s stepping through a vortex into another moment in time. Familiar, yet different.

 

_This time it feels different._

 

“It’s good to be back, huh?” His voice stirs her from her thoughts.

 

“Mhmm,” she lies as she steps over to the chair across the desk, the one thing she can definitively claim as hers in all this mess, to take a seat.

 

A momentary passing of silence settles in the air around them.

 

“ _Are_ we back though? I mean, really?” she finally says, her contemplative thoughts manifesting themselves into physical words. Before she has a chance to stop them, it’s too late.

 

He pauses to look up from his task. “What’s that supposed to mean? Of course we are.”

 

“I mean,” a defeated sigh escapes her lips. “We never really talked about what happened earlier.”

 

“With regards to…”

 

“Don’t feign ignorance with me, Mulder.”

 

He resumes the task of engrossing himself in his busy work, turning back to retrieve another armful of books from the box to add to his growing collection.

 

“Oh, you mean Diana?” The venom in his tone suggests that this is obviously still a heated topic of conversation between them.

 

“Yes, Diana,” she spits back. He shoves a handful of books into an empty slot out of frustration and makes his way over to where she is sitting.

 

“You’re beating a dead horse, Scully. We’ve got the X-Files back. She’s no longer a threat to you. I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

 

“It’s not about her being a threat to me! I was trying to protect us, our work! And you made me feel like my concerns were unfounded, unwelcome. You practically made us enemies, Mulder. I never wanted this.”

 

“How?” he scoffs, raising his tone. “How did I make us enemies?!”

 

“By choosing to trust her over me! It’s as if the last five and a half years have meant nothing to you.” She stands to face him, to emphasize the importance of her words.

 

“Mulder, what we’ve been through, what _I’ve_ been through, what we’ve _risked_ , I cannot believe that you would jeopardize throwing that all away to avow allegiance to a woman whose enigmatic motives are questionable at best and-- and deleterious at worst.”

 

“Because you have not given me solid, undeniable proof to do otherwise! Proof, Scully. Something that’s normally always a requirement for you. Something you demand, even, from me! And here you are willing to ignore facts based on some misplaced records in the FBI database?!”

 

“ _Conveniently_ misplaced! This whole thing reeks of a cover-up!” She sidesteps him to grab her coat and briefcase by the door. The overwhelming need to get away, to escape, prompting her into action.

 

“There is proof, Mulder. You’re just unwilling to accept it.”

 

With that, she disappears into the shadows of the dimly-lit hallway. She hasn’t taken a personal day in years. It’s about damn time she does.

 

•••••

 

The fuzzy socks and silky pajamas she slips into offer little comfort against tumultuous, uneasy thoughts running through her mind. The scotch helps. She rarely drinks it except on occasions like this. When she needs something stronger than wine. She takes another sip, wincing as the liquid burns a path down her throat, the pain a temporary distraction from her self-loathing and sorrows.

 

A heavy knock pierces the silence of her apartment, and her heart races in response. She glances at the clock, and it blinks back at her in angry red numbers. 9:49 pm. She’s surprised it even took him this long to show. He knocks again and she answers it with another sip of scotch and an aggravated “Go away.”

 

He doesn’t. He lets himself in and hovers in her entryway like a lost puppy.

 

“Why are you here, Mulder?” she finally asks, agitation evident in her tone. She just wants to be left alone.

 

“I need to talk to you.”

 

 _We tried that earlier_ , she wants to say. _It didn’t work._

 

“Go home.”

 

“Scully…” he breathes, her name rolling thickly off his tongue, and her belly flutters at the way he says it. She hates that he can do that. Even when she’s furious at him. She settles a palm against her stomach, willing the sensation to go away. It never does.

 

Before she realizes it, he’s made his way to the living room, planting himself on the coffee table across from her.

 

“I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have second guessed you or your intentions. I don’t expect you to forgive me. But at least let me try to make amends.”

 

His confession is a breath of fresh air to her weary soul. It is definitely a start. But she needs more than his cool, practiced and calculated words.

 

“Mulder,” she takes in a deep breath. “I need– I need to know that I can trust you. And you’ve given me no reason to do that. You don’t want to betray Diana. I understand that. But what about me? We’re partners, we’re more than partners, we’re…” she trails off and her traitorous bottom lip quivers with the effort of holding back the tears she feels welling up inside her eyes.

 

“We're… whatever the hell we are… and… it feels like the hallway all over again.” The last sentence rushes from her lips and, suddenly, she can’t do this. She needs to escape. She can’t break in front of him when she’s this emotional. She can’t.

 

His shocked gaze follows her as her wobbly legs carry her into the kitchen and she busies herself with making a cup of tea. She doesn’t even want tea. Her hands shake as she struggles to open the foil packet of Earl Grey, and he’s behind her in an instant, large, strong hands atop hers, steadying her movements.

 

“Scully, look at me.”

 

She shakes her head, a lone tear streaming down her cheek. She wriggles from his grasp and reaches for the kettle, filling it with water.

 

“Scully, please.” His voice breaks and so does a piece of her resolve. She turns and finds him only inches away. She can feel his heat through the thin material of her pajamas.

 

“Diana was the cause then,” she starts. “Back when I was going to leave, to transfer. And she’s the cause for this, right now. Don’t you see?”

 

“I’m trying. I am.”

 

“This feels like more than a professional betrayal, Mulder.” She represses a sob as tears begin to fall freely down her face. “You told me I’m making it personal, but it is personal. To me,” she pauses, unsure of her next words. “I was going to let you kiss me in your hallway.”

 

The candidness of her last admission surprises them both. She can scarcely believe she just said that out loud. Of all the times they’ve put off talking about the dreaded bee and his hallway and their near-kiss, why now? He goes to speak before she cuts him off.

 

“God, what would’ve happened? What if we had crossed that line?”

 

“It wouldn’t have changed anything. It wouldn’t have changed how I feel about you.”

 

“Which is what, exactly?” _God, just say it Mulder!_ “You kept me around because you said you needed me. I have no doubt of that. But what about what _I_ need?”

 

“What _do_ you need, Scully? Christ! Just tell me!”

 

“I– I need to know that you have my back! That I’m not just being used as a pawn to get what you need out of the X-Files! That to lose me would be more than a professional casualty to you!”

 

“Is that what you think?!” he raises his voice defensively.

 

“God dammit,” she mutters under her breath. “Yes, okay?! Yes, that’s what I think.”

 

“Scully, I didn’t try to kiss you because I thought doing so would make you stay on as my partner. I didn’t do it out of desperation to prevent you from leaving, though it nearly killed me when you said you would.” His tone quiets to a near whisper, his tender gaze liquefying her insides, and she feels him step impossibly close.

 

“I did it because I couldn’t stand the thought of never knowing what it would feel like to have your lips pressed against mine. I did it because I’d fantasized about kissing you _so_ _damn much_ , I couldn’t have survived another day without experiencing it. I did it because I _needed_ to. Because I needed it as much as my next breath.”

 

Her heart ceases to beat in her chest, the oxygen to her brain cut severely short, and she feels dizzy. She’s never realized how much she yearned to hear those words, in that order, fall from his mouth. Until now.

 

“And maybe that was selfish of me. But I’m not sorry about that. I could never be sorry about that. I’m only sorry that I didn’t have the courage to do it before now.”

 

She doesn’t have a chance to decipher the meaning of his last sentence before his hands are pulling her to him, and his mouth crashes against hers in a greedy, desperate kiss. There is no preamble. No hesitation or uncertainty. Only Mulder.

 

It’s everything that should’ve happened in his hallway and more. It’s hot and wet and frenzied. It’s too much and not nearly enough. The taste of him floods her body with such intense pleasure, it’s blinding. He tastes how she always imagined he would. Warm, like sunshine melting in her mouth. Robust, like that first sip of morning coffee awakening her taste buds. Smooth, like chocolate. Like ancient milky ways and galaxies. He tastes like the stars.

 

Earthly, yet Otherworldly.

 

A whimper crawls its way from her throat as he wraps a strong arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She’s always admired his lean physique. She admires it even more now that she’s pressed against it so exquisitely. His tongue skirts around her lower lip, seeking permission, and he groans when she grants it, their tongues swirling and dancing around one another in a delicate tempo.

 

All the trepidation, all the worry, she felt only moments earlier has seemingly disappeared with each pass of his delicious, full lips. He wants this just as bad as she does. He wants _her_. Not as a partner. But as more.

 

It’s only when she realizes that she doesn’t quite know how to _physically_ stop kissing him, that panic begins to creep in. This is bound to go too far if they let this continue. The floodgates have opened, and it’s going to take insurmountable strength to hold the waters of desire at bay.

 

Against the protest of every cell in her body, she miraculously finds the fortitude needed to pull away. Her lips immediately tingle in absence of his. She runs a tongue along her lower lip and still feels him there. Like a phantom limb.

 

They haven’t even been apart two seconds before his mouth seeks hers again, and she knows how he feels, God does she know, but she can’t risk them taking this too far, so she presses her hand against his chest as a deterrent.

 

“Mulder,” she breathes against his lips. “We should stop.”

 

He tips his head back to look her in the eyes, validating what she just said, and nodding slowly in agreement when he realizes she’s serious. “Yeah,” he clears his throat. “We, uh, probably should.”

 

Her hand reaches for his, squeezing him gently as their fingers lock and intertwine.

 

“I just need time, Mulder.”

 

And she knows he understands this. Knows he’ll give her what she needs. Knows he’d wait until the end of time, if she asked him to.

 

She hopes she doesn’t ask him to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the post One Son Drabble that was requested by many of you. This chapter isn’t as dialogue heavy, and is more introspective with regards to Scully’s inner thoughts and feelings, but things will pick up in future chapters!

In hindsight, it’s easy to pinpoint when she first fell for him.

 

It was the Tooms case, early in their partnership, and it was just after she’d defended Mulder’s outlandish theories in front of Tom Colton. She was exhausted and hopped up on adrenaline and coffee and had resisted that disarming, penetrating gaze of his one too many times in recent days.

 

He had reached out to innocently straighten her grandmother’s long, golden pendant and she’d suddenly noticed that the chaotic world around them had ceased to exist. Time had slowed. Disappeared. There was only Mulder and his tender touch that made her frantically beating heart thump loudly against her eardrums.

 

She never wore that necklace again. Too afraid that the next time he did that, she wouldn’t be able to resist completely melting into a puddle on the floor.

 

There had been an attraction between them since their very first case, but she was wholly unaware of how deeply she felt that attraction until months, maybe years, later. There was no grand epiphany. No obvious  _Oh-my-God-I’m-in-love-with-my-partner_  moment. The realization sort of just creeped in. Settled into her bones like a warm, soothing salve until denial became curiosity, curiosity became desire, desire became a profound ache that never quite went away.

 

Her mother had asked her, one Sunday afternoon on the way back from church last year, why she and Mulder weren’t a couple.

 

“I see the way he looks at you, Dana,” she’d said, and her first knee-jerk reaction was to deny it.

 

“Mom, Mulder is just… intense… by nature. He looks at a lot of people like that. It’s just his personality. He’s passionate.”  

 

“Not like that. Not the way I’ve seen him look at you. Not even your father looked at me like that.”

 

“We’re partners, mom. Work associates. Colleagues. Even if you were right, which you aren’t, we couldn’t be involved romantically.”

 

And that had been her excuse ever since.  _We work together._

 

But it wasn’t the real reason.

 

No,  _that_  reason she keeps to herself. Buried away in the deep recesses of her heart where even  _she_  has trouble finding it sometimes. Where even  _she_  forgets every rational excuse, every sensible reason why they can’t cross that line sometimes.

 

It’s days like today that make her forget those excuses. Moments like earlier, when she’d walked into their office this morning to see a cup of coffee and a cream cheese danish from her favorite cafe placed on the desk with a note:

 

_[Had an early meeting with Kersh, but thought you’d like some breakfast._

_Love, M.]_

 

L-O-V-E.

 

Her knees buckle under the weight of those four little menacing letters staring back at her, and she sinks into her chair as the reality of it sinks into the pit of her stomach.

 

Her lips curl into a toothy grin and she’s smiling like some lovesick idiot, tears teasing the rims of her eyelids. Tears of relief. Of happiness.

 

But then, there’s doubt.

 

She’d had a few hours to think things over, since he’d left her apartment last night. Since he’d kissed her.

 

It wasn’t a lie, what she’d told him before he left– that she needed time. She  _did_ need time. Dana Scully never jumped into anything without carefully weighing her options. Without carefully considering the facts– analyzing all the proof and evidence– before she made her conclusion. Head before heart.

 

But the truth is, she was scared. She panicked.

 

She panicked because that kiss had changed everything. It had changed her whole life, and she didn’t expect it. This was not part of the plan, falling in love with her partner. She never meant for it to happen. Especially, now with the wounds of betrayal that Mulder left on her bleeding heart still so fresh. Especially, with Diana still not completely out of the picture.

 

She’d often thought about what the aftermath of a kiss between them would look like and, in every scenario, she could never let herself imagine a happy ending.

 

Maybe they’d kiss, then the tension would fizzle out, and they’d realize they weren’t compatible romantically. Maybe they’d get it out of their system and move on. Maybe they’d decide it was only ever about the thrill of the chase, and the excitement was now gone.

 

She wasn’t prepared for a scenario where instead of quelling the flames of desire, a kiss between them would fuel it into a raging fire that consumed her entire existence.

 

How was she supposed to face him, now? How could she ever look at him and not immediately think about how his lips fit perfectly against hers? How those little, desperate sounds he made as he lost himself their kiss sent a spark of desire crackling down her spine? How she’s never heard those sounds from him before, and how she’d do anything to hear them again? How she’d never been kissed like that? Ever. Not with such an intense longing that it literally stole the breath from her lungs?

 

How?

 

“Scully… hey,” his husky voice startles her from her thoughts, and a rush of blood to her head makes her feel momentarily dizzy. “I was hoping you’d be here when I got back.”

 

She steels herself with an anchoring breath, closing her eyes before turning to face him. “Morning,” she smiles and feels her cheeks warm at the sight of him.

 

He’s leaning against the doorway, arms crossed with his sleeves already sloppily rolled up, and his searing gaze sends a flash of heat that settles low in her belly. She’s never seen that kind of hunger in his eyes before. He clears his throat and bites his lip before making his way past her to pick up a pile of folders on the desk.

 

“We’ve, uh, got a case.”


End file.
